


Because She's Erza

by wordslinger



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Natza, be gentle I'm fragile, completely out of my wheelhouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: He wonders how she can compartmentalize everything so easily but the answer is simple. Because she’s Erza.





	Because She's Erza

**Author's Note:**

> This is OOC for both Natsu and Erza.

            “This unsuitable.” Erza snatches the room key from the concierge, who flinches under the sharpness of her glare. She whirls around, her hair nearly slapping Natsu in the face, and stalks toward the elevators.

            “Sorry about that,” Natsu says with a grin.

            “Your girlfriend is scary.”

            “She’s not my girlfriend.” The retort comes without much thought but it isn’t untrue. He’s never considered Erza in such a light – even when she’s naked with only soap bubbles between them.

            He leaves the desk and trails behind. Her hair is a damp, clumpy mess. There’s a smear of mud and dirt just above her knee on the back of her thigh. Natsu wonders if she knows. Erza, despite her ferocity, isn’t the type to wear the blood of her enemies.

            The doors slide open with a muted chime. Erza says nothing in the elevator. He watches her arms prickle in the chilled air and almost asks why she doesn’t requip into a jacket. _Almost_ but doesn’t. Natsu has known Erza long enough to recognize a morose mood when he sees one. There aren’t many who have seen her at her worst. Her most _weak._ He doesn’t like Erza on her bottom rungs. It reminds him of his own weakness and mortality, and those aren’t things Natsu likes to ponder.

            He follows her down a hallway and to one numbered door of many. She fumbles the key twice and he thinks maybe she might snap it in half, but the light on the door lever turns green on the third try.

            Erza doesn’t spare the room a single glance. He hears the bathroom door lock and sighs. There’s no point in pursuing her. When she shuts a door, she means it. Erza doesn’t wear her feelings on her sleeve and hasn’t ever. It’s not who she is. The few times she’s cracked in front of him were terrifying and he wonders if those small moments were even his to see. Erza is layer after layer of complicated armor. He doesn’t think anyone has seen what’s beneath it all except perhaps Jellal and _that_ is a tangle of red strings Natsu wants nothing to do with.

            He crosses the room and pokes at the air conditioner buttons. There is a lot of beeping and he’s not sure how to operate it, but the numbers change and that’s good enough. When he turns around the source of Erza’s ire is inescapable.

            The single queen size bed takes up most of the space in the room. He considers offering to sleep on the floor or the chair but… Erza isn’t Lucy. There’s a difference in there but he’s too tired to work it out in his head.

In a cloud of sweet-smelling steam, Erza finally steps out of the bathroom. She’s wrapped in a towel Natsu is pretty sure doesn’t belong to the hotel. It’s too plush and too _big._ She perches on the edge of the bed and pulls a bottle of something thick and goopy from her pocket universe. Natsu’s nose twitches. Too many scents. Why are women always covered in something flowery?

            “Are you done?” he asks in more of an annoyed tone than he intends.

            Erza shrugs and drags her fingers through her hair. “For now.”

            The bathroom is full of steam and she hadn’t touched any of the hotel soaps. He uses them all. If Erza is allowed to smell like five things at once, he can too. Once his body is covered in suds that make his head hurt, he regrets the soaps. On impulse, he twists the dial to cold water and waits for the steam to clear.

            Erza is still on the bed but her hair is mostly dry – he doesn’t ask how – and there is a small collection of miniature bottles beside her. She glances up at him sheepishly.

            “I’ll pay for the mini-bar,” she says a little too slowly. “I can afford it.”

            “I didn’t know you were a high roller, Erza.” He wonders what he should wear. His clothes aren’t exactly dirty but they aren’t exactly _clean_ either.

            “Here.” As if she’s read his mind, Erza thrusts a pair of cotton pajama pants toward him. They smell a bit like Lucy’s laundry detergent but clearly belong to a man. “You can…” She trails off and pokes through the collection of bottles. “You can borrow these. I guess.”

            “I didn’t know you carried around men’s clothing,” he mutters dumbly as his towel falls to the floor. The pants are at least one size too big.

            “You don’t know everything about me, Natsu.” Her tone is snappish and he lets it go. Suddenly she looks up at him and grins sloppily. “I contain multitudes.”

            Natsu isn’t sure how to respond. He’s seen Erza drunk before. She’s usually mean and bossy. Today she is subdued. Calm. _Sloppy_ but calm. It’s unnerving.

            “Are you drunk?” Natsu watches her crack the seal on another bottle. This one is blue. “How many bottles have you had?” He reaches for the cabinet beside the miniature refrigerator but stops when Erza laughs.

            “I emptied it.” She flips her hair and the towel around her body shifts. He doesn’t think she notices and purses his lips. “Don’t look at me that way, Natsu. You do dumb stuff _all_ the time. I can drink in our room after a bad day if I want.”

            “Bad is a generous word for today,” he mutters, taking a seat beside her on the bed. Erza’s bottles aren’t much bigger than his palm. Anyone else might’ve been surprised she’s such a lightweight but Natsu knows Erza isn’t much for drinking. Unlike him, she values control. He thinks maybe she needs it.

            “Blood is so gross. I hate it.”

            When he looks at her again, her cheeks are pink and her eyes are glassy. He doesn’t want to be sober when Erza is not. The bottle he picks is clear with a red label. It tastes horrible at first but after two mouthfuls his tongue is numb. The second bottle is amber and tastes like nothing.

            “Do you use the same laundry soap as Lucy?” he blurts.

            Erza glances over at him and blinks once. “No.”

            “These pants smell like her.”

            “I’m sure they do.” Erza doesn’t elaborate. She crosses her legs and the towel splits open. Not for the first time, Natsu wonders where she hides her muscle mass. “What’s it like?”

            “What?” Natsu watches her gather the bottles into her lap. When she stands the towel is nearly hanging off. The glass bottles clink against each other as they fall into the wastebasket. She adjusts the folds of her towel but her fingers aren’t as skilled as they might be any other time.

            “Smelling everything. I don’t know if I could stand it. I’d have to wash my sheets every other day.”

            “With all that flowery soap you bathe in, I’m not surprised.”

            She glares at him in a way he won’t decipher. He doesn’t _really_ care what or whom her sheets smell like. Without warning, Erza’s body shimmers and her towel disappears. In its place is something so plain he thinks it doesn’t suit her. The tank top and panties are white cotton and he tries not to stare.

            Erza yanks too hard on the sheets and he takes the hint. Natsu crawls up the length of the bed and flops to his back. He can feel the alcohol steeping in his gut and it isn’t unpleasant. His head rolls to the side and he finds Erza watching him.

            “What?”

            “Did you know I like your hair?”

            “You’re drunk.”

            She laughs and he doesn’t flinch when she reaches out to touch the still damp points of his hair.

            “It looks stiff but it’s not.”

            “Your hair is nice too, Erza.”

            “I know.”

            Her smile is absolutely sloppy and he thinks his is too. Natsu’s eyes fall to her lips. There is a strand of red sticking to her lip-gloss. Before he can stop himself his fingers are tucking the hair behind her ear and drawing through the length of it spilling over her shoulder. Something in her expression changes and before he can even _think_ about stopping her, she kisses him.

            Erza’s lips taste like the liquor she’s been drinking but also something fruity. Maybe cherry. He doesn’t take the time to figure it out because the space between them is now nothing. Her kisses are aggressive and her skin is hot. Natsu’s fingers find the smooth curve of her hip. He hesitates at the waistband of her panties. His mouth opens to ask a question or to say something, _anything_ , and she is suddenly Erza again. Her hand clamps over his mouth.

            “No talking.” Her expression isn’t what he expects. She isn’t commanding him. She is _asking._

            Natsu’s fingers wrap around her wrist and he pulls her hand away from his mouth. _He_ kisses _her_ this time. Erza isn’t pliable in the same way Lucy is pliable. She doesn’t touch him like Lisanna touches him. She is something utterly different. Just Erza.

            She lets him take her on her back and her eyes stay closed. He won’t dig for her secrets or what she sees on the backs of her eyelids. Erza is soft in a way he doesn’t think other people know about. Her breaths come in puffs. He can feel every exhale and ragged inhale when he presses his lips to her neck.

            There is something about her that’s new to him. Something fragile but _sharp_. He wonders if she’d slice him open if he were to demand she open her eyes. The thought both excites him and terrifies him. He grips her thighs in a way he can’t with anyone else. Erza is _strong._

            Natsu knows even as she digs her fingernails into his arms and back that he hasn’t figured her out. He knows the puzzle isn’t his to put together. She doesn’t speak when she finishes but she isn’t completely silent. The sound of her gasp is sinful. When he kisses her, she sighs against his lips and opens her eyes. The tips of her fingers are gentle on the edge of his jaw.

            When he rolls off of her, she reaches for the lamp switch. Part of him wishes he’d thought to do that himself. Maybe she wouldn’t have closed her eyes.

* * *

 

            Her hair crowds him on the pillow and the morning sun burns his eyes. Erza doesn’t bother to cover herself when she rises. She doesn’t tell him the sex was a mistake. She doesn’t tell him not to talk about it. He wonders how she can compartmentalize everything so easily but the answer is simple.

            Because she’s Erza.


End file.
